


Harry Potter and the Legacy of the Ancients

by JackSez



Category: Harry Potter - Rowling, Stargate Atlantis, Stargate SG-1
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2010-08-24
Updated: 2010-09-21
Packaged: 2017-10-11 06:04:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 10,370
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/109195
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JackSez/pseuds/JackSez
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After defeating Voldemort, Harry Potter leaves the Wizarding World to pursue an academic career. Writing an innocuous paper leads him right back into conflict and notoriety and sends him on an adventure of intergalactic proportions when all he wanted to do was escape the stigma of being The Boy Who Lived in a magical world while living without reliable magic.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> My working title for this (potentially) massive epic has all along been Harry At Atlantis or H@A for short. The initial idea came after reading another author's story where Harry ended up in the Pegasus Galaxy after having taken on the identity of a muggle named John Sheppard. I liked the story but had a bit problem with the premise. I just couldn't agree that Harry would resort to such a convoluted solution. After months of ruminating about how I would like to get Harry to the "City on The Edge of Forever" I was inspired to just sit down and start writing something, anything, when I read the "DVD" commentary of synecdochic's story "Freedom's Just Another Word for Nothing Left to Lose". Her musings about how the story had evolved in unforeseen directions once she actually started attempting to write it from her original idea and the surprises that ensued motivated me to just sit down and start writing. Several obsessive weeks of intense torture ensued and HP &amp; The Legacy of the Ancients was born. It is still evolving and growing, rather slowly I'm afraid, but progress is being made.
> 
> This story belongs to me. Alas, the characters and settings belong to other people and soul-less corporations who can afford to hire lawyers. While I would love to recieve some kind of renumeration for all the time and energy and sleepless nights that I've put into this epic I know that that is unlikely to happen. I've been writing this for fun, entertainment, experience and to satisfy some sort of obsessive-compulsive masocistic leaning that occasionally possesses me. If only it would take me over a bit more often as then I would be a bit closer to completing this sisyphean undertaking but my mundane life all too often interferes and the horses need to be fed and cleaned up after twice a day at a minimum, seven days a week.
> 
> I'm determined to keep to my format of alternating chapters as the main story evolves but I have segments written that I haven't fit into the main narrative quite yet and I may post them as excerpts or something as time goes on. My goal is to post on a weekly basis or so at a minimum and if I need to stretch things out a bit by putting up an alternative or cut scene I just may do that.
> 
> Enjoy!
> 
> J

Harry Potter and the Legacy of the Ancients

Prologue

Voldemort was dead, the war long since over. The final battle had taken its toll in bodies and magic and left Harry practically a squib. Instead of returning to Hogwarts for his seventh and final term, years later then he should have, he went to Oxford.

Then came the phone call that led to an unexpected trip to Egypt the summer after his first year of postgraduate work. Upon arriving back in the UK he made the journey to Hogwarts for the first time in almost seven years.

He hitched a ride on the Hogwart's express and, by staying in his compartment, went unrecognized by the few students he encountered. Not that this generation knew much about The Boy Who Lived. The horrors of the past had been quickly swept under the carpet as the Wizarding world tried to get back to "normal." Even the occasional "what ever happened to?" articles in the Daily Profit on certain anniversaries had stopped appearing.

After eating a hearty dinner, Harry walked slowly to the school from Hogsmeade, arriving very late, well after the students had finished the welcome feast and been sent off to their dormitories. The protections at the gate allowed him through with minimal resistance. They hadn't forgotten him but they sensed the bone deep changes within and perhaps weren't quite so sure of him as they once would have been. He nodded to the winged boars upon their twin pillars as if to thank them and acknowledge his understanding of their uncertainty.

The new layers of security that met him at the front of the castle itself were a different matter entirely. Invisible forces held him as the stonework shifted and flowed around a face forming at his eye level in a wall near the doors. A face that reminded him of Dobby. Inhuman eyes met his and read his soul.

"Who goes?" the stone lips whispered.

"Harry James to see Professor Binns. I believe I'm expected."

"Harry James?"

"Harry James Potter."

A tingling ran through him from his toes to the top of his head and he was free to move. With a "pop" the face in the stone vanished and one of the huge wooden doors opened. Another whispering voice, this time seeming to eminate from the air around him, said "Welcome Harry Potter. You are free to walk the halls of Hogwarts unescorted. A room has been prepared for you on the guest floor of the teacher's tower."

Not knowing if anyone or anything was listening Harry said "Thank you," and stepped through the open door. He made his way directly to Professor Binn's office, next to the History Of Magic classroom, with no pausing for nostalgic reminiscing. His task was urgent and he had an appointment to keep. Besides, there was so much of his life associated with this place that he didn't want to remember. He had long ago packed the grief and memories deep down inside himself where he shut and locked the lid to the trunk that held them.

That was how Harry visualized it when he woke from the nightmares that still occasionally haunted him. A trunk bound with straps of steel and magic never to be opened again. The keys and incantations to open it were locked away in another trunk protected just as fiercely as the first.

As Harry lifted the tongue of the rather hideous gargoyle face that was the knocker, the door opened and he heard Professor Binns' voice say, "Come in Harry. Come in and welcome."

Harry stepped through the doorway and saw the professor come through his desk with his arms open wide as if to clasp his shoulders in greeting. Harry could not remember ever seeing this particular ghost so demonstrative. He stepped back a single step and gave a short bow.

"Thank you for seeing me, Professor, on such short notice. I know that you're busy at the beginning of the school year."

"Nonsense my dear boy, anytime. Anytime. Now what can I do for you? Your message seemed quite urgent and I can't imagine what this old bag of protoplasm could possibly do for you."

"Professor, what can you tell me about an ancient race of supernatural creatures called the Goa ‘uld?"


	2. Leaving Earth

Chapter 1

  
Harry was in the first wave of civilians queued up to go through the stargate. The line went from the ramp and out deep into the base of Stargate Command buried deep under Cheyenne Mountain. His placement with his plastic wrapped vaguely pyramid shaped pallet of equipment and foodstuffs had him positioned just inside the gateroom door. He was able to see the small formal leave-taking ceremony that was happening while most all of the Atlantis team was only able to hear it via broadcasts over the base's internal communications system.

Generals O'Neill, Hammond and Landry were there to see them off. Some American military anthems were being played live by a small band scrunched up in a corner of the gateroom. These were followed by short phrases of music from many different countries in a token tribute to the international makeup of the expedition. Harry was sure that he even heard a snippet of "God Save the Queen" at one point.

SG-1 was standing at attention behind the generals. Though he put on a good face Harry knew that Dr. Jackson was not happy behind his calm mask. He had been dying to go on this trip but his responsibilities on Earth and the threat of the Ori to the Milky Way Galaxy were keeping him at home. Harry had heard rumors of arguments with General O'Neill and that their on again/off again relationship was, at the moment, strained to say the least.

Dr. Weir made a short speech that was followed by salutes and applause from the military contingent all around the room. She then reminded everyone of the possibility that going through the gate this time could be a one-way trip and if anyone wanted to pull out that now was the time. No one did and the klaxon sounded as the inner ring of the gate began to spin.

Harry was sweating and trying not to shake from nervousness. He wanted to look cool and collected and not adversely affect those around him who consisted of fellow expedition members and the line of "pushers" assigned to assist them through the gate.

Harry had been asked to join the expedition at the very last minute. He had been off-world on his first training mission with SG-13 and a cadre of other newbie civilians and green recruits for several weeks at an archeological site. The dig had been fascinating and he could have spent months there he was sure. It had been an Ancient outpost that had been utilized by the Goa 'uld for many years and then abandoned for some unknown reason centuries earlier.

He had returned to Earth when the first round of the military contingent was scheduled to be rotated in order to pick up some reference books he wanted and to restock his personal supplies. While his magically expanded backpack held a lot of stuff he still hadn't been as prepared for the trip as he would have liked to have been.

During his routine return physical, Dr. Reynolds told him that all personnel were being screened for a genetic marker having to do with the Ancients that facilitated the handling of their technology. The next day as he was packing for the return trip to P3X-1B2 he had been summoned to Dr. Weir's office and offered the position as her assistant in the linguistic department of the Atlantis expedition. Apparently his ATA gene expression was quite strong and because he had already made a start in learning Ancient they really wanted him.

While Harry didn't necessarily have the multilayered eclectic talents and skills that so many of the expedition members exhibited, his language abilities, proven teaching experience, and his youth combined with his ATA genes had garnered him a place. His leadership experience gained during the war against Voldermort, while not something that Stargate Command officially knew about, had showed in his early training and been duly noted and had helped to establish him as a possible asset to the expedition.

Harry had been only too happy to accept. His recent experiences in Egypt and the notoriety that had once again garnered the attention of the wizarding world and especially the Daily Prophet had made returning to the muggle world difficult, to say the least, now that everyone in the Wizarding world knew where he was living and how he had spent the years after the war.

On his first trip to literally another world it had been as if an invisible weight had lifted off the shoulders of the Boy Who Lived and he felt he could live again. He had eagerly anticipated staying on P3X-1B2 for as long as possible but now he was being offered a possible one-way trip to another galaxy. He could become part of what could well become Earth's first off-world colony and he wanted this.

As it turned out the Linguistic Department consisted only of him and Dr. Weir and because of her administrative position as leader of the expedition Harry was defacto head of a one-man department. In addition to translating, his responsibilities were going to consist of teaching Ancient to his fellow adventurers and working on the library database as things were added.

His teaching duties started right away. Familiarizing the expedition members with the written Ancient symbolic language was a high priority. Though knowledge of how the language actually sounded was limited he taught that also.

Preparing for the actual trip through the gate took up the rest of his non-sleeping time.

As soon as the expedition members had assembled in large enough quantity to make them seem realistic they started doing dry runs through a mock up of the gate. Cheyenne Mountain facilities just weren't big enough so they were quartered at Area51 in Nevada for six weeks before decamping to the underground base.

In a huge warehouse in the desert they assembled their equipment and necessities and mocked up pallets representing stuff that hadn't yet arrived and started organizing the run through the gate. They only had a 38 minute window to get everything through and once someone asked, "What if the gate closes in 20 minutes because we don't have enough power?" the entire packing system had been reorganized so that every stack and pallet had a mix of food, medicines, weapons, electronics and other supplies that a colony would need. This way nothing crucial would be left behind because the only box of whatever was on one of the pallets that didn't make it through.

The packing was shifted around once again when the realization had been made that this really was a possible one-way trip and that what was needed was not just survival supplies but colonization equipment. How long would their level of technology last if they were stranded and what could they take that was low tech that would assist them in surviving?

Farm tools. Seeds. Metal working tools including an anvil and stocks of metal. Fabric and needles and fiber sources to make clothing. Cotton and flax seeds. Simpler guns and ammunition. Bows and arrows and crossbows and books about how to make them.

Books, books and more books. Most of them in digital format scanned and saved but bound books too just in case the technology level fell faster then anticipated. At one meeting Harry attended he heard all about an early edition of the Encyclopedia Britannica circa 1911 that was so full of low tech information that could be useful to a colony that an entire set had been purchased for an exorbitant price at auction and was being included.

Harry ended up being assigned responsibility for the books. Shortly before departure his department expanded and he became a supervisor when a young marine had been assigned to him as his assistant librarian. Corporal Genie Curtis was perky and enthusiastic and cute if you could call a six-foot tall female marine "cute" and get away with it. Harry did. He had learned early on when he started training Dumbledore's Army that size rarely triumphed over skill when it came to fighting with magic or without. After the disastrous first year the DA training had included unarmed combat as well as magic training. The first time the shorter and slighter translator had thrown the tall and muscular marine across the room had earned him her respect and friendship.

The swoosh of the connecting wormhole brought his attention back to the gate room. He watched as the watery vertical pool within the gate was disturbed by the MALP passing through. The silence was profound as everyone waited for the information it would send back. Finally Walter's voice came over the sound system.

"We have MALP telemetry."

Dr. Weir asked, "What is it we're looking at?"

"Switching to zero lux."

"Radar scan seems to show the interior of a large room with a lot of empty space. No visible light so it is dark in there at the moment but there seems to be room to spread out in," came Dr. McKay's voice over Harry's headset.

"It's structurally intact." Dr. Jackson added.

"Sensors state there's oxygen, no measurable toxins, breathable atmosphere, 7 degrees Celsius. On the cool side but we have viable life-support." Dr. McKay looked up from his portable tablet and turned to Dr. Weir. "Looks like we're not getting out of this."

General O'Neill nodded at the expedition leader. "Dr. Weir. You have a go."

She nodded. "Thank you, Sir." She cued her radio. "Thank you Walter. Atlantis Team, dispersion plan 4. Lets get this show on the road."

An armed military team was first up the ramp and through the gate. Dr Weir joined Colonel Sumner and was gone followed by the other department heads.

Off to the side Harry could see Dr. Jackson and Colonel O'Neill with their heads together. They were speaking quietly and were not watching the gate. He had been hoping to catch Dr. Jackson's eye before leaving. He hadn't had a chance to say good-bye.

Curtis gave Harry a nudge. They were behind the first pallet that was being pushed by the medical team. As Dr. Beckett and his staff moved up the ramp Curtis caught Harry's attention and said "up and at 'em" as she switched on the electric floor jack that was under their pile of stuff. The hydraulics lifted the pyramid up off the floor a couple of inches and with Harry steering with the t-bar handle they went quickly across the floor and started up the ramp.

The railings of the ramp had been removed in order to facilitate the wide bases of the pallets. The truncated pyramidal shape had been chosen for its volume and stability while moving quickly. The ramp at the gate had been raised a bit to broaden the access for the wide base of the pallets. Harry and Curtis easily rolled their's up the ramp to the gate with the assistance of the pushers lined up along either side. He didn't have a chance for a last look back as the blue pool was suddenly there, right in front of his face, as the stack of stuff disappeared and he was nose to nose with the wormhole. He heard Curtis say, "After you professor James sir," and felt her arm on his shoulder as he stepped forward into the blue rippling wall of the event horizon.


	3. Escape

                                                                                        Chapter 2

  
After the war Harry was just tired. Tired of the attention he received every time he went out in public. Tired of mourning the friends and new family he had lost. Tired of grieving for Ron, Hermione and Neville. And Hagrid and Dumbledore and dozens of others lost during the three-year outright war with Voldermort. Tired of living in a magical world with almost no magic of his own.

He could still perform minor charms and other little things but even they sometimes went awry, manifesting unpredictable results. His wand had been destroyed in the final battle and subsequently his magic had been so unpredictable that he even had difficulty choosing a new one.

Mr. Ollivander, who had survived the war because he had hid out after being rescued by Dobby when Voldemort kidnapped him and Luna Lovegood, wasn't able to help him. Harry had tried hundreds of wands over the course of several days. None of them felt right. Most didn't work at all. One wand self destructed after a spell bounced off of the wall and hit Mr. Ollivander turning him into a pumpkin. Actually it was more of a carved Jack O' Lantern and the face on it was Mr. Ollivander's with his mouth wide open screaming in horror. It took the combined efforts of a master wizard and a high level witch two days to restore the wand maker to his self. Harry was massively discouraged and after several tries over many months to create a functioning custom wand for him even Mr. Ollivander gave up.

The wizarding world's reaction after the war was tiring also. Just as it had done in the time leading up to the war the subject was swept under the carpet and not discussed except in only the most tentative and vaguest terms and even those discussions faded quickly. After the initial celebratory pageants and parties the wizarding world tried its best to get back to normal. A kind of false joie de vivre permeated wizarding society. Everything was fine. Everything was dandy. Wasn't everything quite wonderful? Let us clench our teeth and smile.

To Harry the forced happiness around him just set him to grinding his teeth together and he gradually withdrew from any sort of public life. When he realized that he had also withdrawn from having a private life because people didn't seem comfortable around him, what with his presence reminding them of the war, he stopped and took stock.

What did he want to do? He didn't know. He could travel but only by non-magical means via mostly muggle transports. He couldn't fly or flue or apparate. He could port-key but couldn't make his own or safeguard purchased or hired keys adequately. But where did he want to go? Nowhere in particular. He didn't like beaches for any great length of time. Mountains and wilderness were OK for a day or two but he preferred having the basic comforts around him and the availability of an easy cuppa several times a day.

He didn't want to write his memoirs. He didn't want someone else to write his memoirs. There was enough fiction about him floating around out there already thanks mainly to The Daily Prophet. He didn't want to set the record straight. His life was his own and there were too many things he didn't want to remember let alone share with the rest of the wizarding world.

He didn't want to marry or pair off again. Ron's death was still too close. Who could replace him? No one.

What to do? He had no idea but finally he decided to act as if he did. To live as if great change was in the wind and he was getting prepared for the oncoming storm. He went visiting and spent time with old school friends and acquaintances, the few who were left. When he could he got them to come to him at his flat close to Diagon Alley. Unbeknownst to them, in his mind he was saying good-bye to each and every visitor.

During a whirlwind couple of days he started divesting himself of stuff. Clothes (even most of his hand knit jumpers from Molly Weasley), books, papers, plants, furniture (little enough that there was of it) knickknacks, tchokes and crockery. Almost all of it was hauled away for charity, went out on the street or just burned in the fireplace.

Halfway through his old Hogwarts trunk he stopped dead, gobsmacked. In his hand was a small bundle of cards and letters. On top were three picture cards from Egypt that Ron had sent him. Underneath those were his cards and letters to Ron that summer. Molly Weasley had returned them to him after Ron's death. They were all written in funny looking letters and symbols using simple substitution codes. Harry smiled remembering the fun he had had researching and writing his letters and figuring out Ron's. It had led him to taking on extra work at Hogwarts because his growing fascination with the old symbols and letters and languages had known no bounds.

That was when it hit him. School. He could go back to school. Muggle university. Study languages. Study language. Study ancient history. He could immerse himself in something that had once enthralled him and could do so once again if he made the effort.

Maybe he could travel to Egypt as part of it. Not as a tourist but to work there amongst fragments of the origins of his favorite symbols. Now there was a place he would like to visit. No matter what method he had to use to get there.

This was the solution. This could work. The muggles didn't know Harry Potter. He could use a different name just in case and he could blend in and live his life without public scrutiny. He could do it. He could have a life again.

The next morning Harry made an early call at the Ministery of Magic. He went right to the top to the Minister himself, Kingsley Shacklebolt.

Kingsley welcomed him into his office. "Harry. Wonderful to see you. It has been too long. Have a seat. Would you like a cup of tea?"

Before Harry could say yes or no or even hello they were interrupted by a tall man who walked in through the doorway Kingsley had left open. "Minister I need your signature on this right away. It is the approval letter for that matter we discussed earlier."

As Kingsley read then signed the document the tall man glanced at the visitor. Harry saw his eyes widen and the small jerk of his head when he recognized The Boy Who Lived Who Defeated Voldemort. Harry sighed. He had seen this reaction thousands of times. Next came the effusive handshake or perhaps a verbose thank you with commentary about where they had been during the final battle. Occasionally it was even a cold stare and a quickly turned back. It was easy to guess who those people had supported during the war.

Not this time. The tall man just nodded and gave Harry a small smile then turned back to the minister's desk in order to pick up the signed parchments and left the room.

Kingsley proceeded to make tea and small talk. He filled a teapot from a carafe from a corner table and heated it with his wand. "Lemon?"

"No, thank you."

Kingsley swirled the water in the pot then dumped it into a waste bin and refilled and reheated the pot after adding the tealeaves. Steam snaked out of the spout. The rich earthy smell of a darjeeling blend drifted over to Harry. "Weak or strong?" Kingsley asked.

"Weak but then let the pot steep for a second shot." Harry replied. You got the full range of flavors that way. Harry loved tea.

While Kingsley poured, a memo flew into the room and unfolded itself on his desk. Harry sipped his tea (fruity, smoky, blueberries over pine) while the Minister read the missive and penned a short answer before re-folding it and sending it on it's way.

"Kingsley I've decided to..."

"Excuse me Minister. May I have a moment?" came a voice from the doorway. A short woman in red auror's robes glided into the room. Before Kingsley could answer she continued, " We need to set a meeting today with the security contingent for," she paused and looked briefly at Harry. "The Visit."

"Yes Aurora, set it up with Winifred."

"She's not in yet and your schedule scroll isn't on her desk. I see it right there in front of you."

Harry poured himself a second cup of tea and sipped at it while they worked something out.  No more blueberries. The smoky flavor predominated now. But there was something there underneath. Sandalwood? No cedar. And maybe rose. Yes.

While they were still speaking, sotto voce with their backs to Harry, another memo flew in. In a sudden fit of pique Harry snatched it out of the air and stuffed it down into the seat cushions. He smiled to himself. His reflexes were still good.

By the time the auror left, she hadn't given him a second glance, Harry had finished his second cup of tea and was starting to steam a bit himself. She was barely out of the room when someone else appeared at the door.

Not really expecting a result Harry muttered "fermeportus" under his breath and flicked his empty teacup at the door. It slammed shut in the man's face.

Kingsley gave Harry a nervous look. "I've never heard that one before, Harry. What was it again?"

"Never mind. I'm sorry Kingsley. I just need a minute of your attention. I've made a decision and I need your help..."

                                                                                       ****************

  
Harry left the ministry in a buoyant state of mind. He wanted to just float down the pavement. This was going to work. He could feel it in his bones. The wheels of bureaucracy were spinning for him for a change and he would soon start his new life as Harry James, student of linguistics and ancient history.

                                                                                       ==============

  
Applying to school was fairly straight forward once he had his new background established.  He submitted an open application to Oxford as instructed, knowing that Kingsley would facilitate its processing and get him accepted into one of the colleges that made up the university.

He had to include two written works that reflected the field of study he wanted to pursue. He was able to use one essay from his Ancient Runes class that was a translation he had done of a small section from a Coptic work on demons. Demons were safe to write about because they were imaginary in both the Wizarding and Muggle worlds. Once typed into a computer and printed out instead of being handwritten on a scroll of parchment it would more than satisfy the requirement.

He had thought he could adapt another essay from his sixth year Ancient Runes class but he was unable to find one that would have any substance once the magic references were excised. That meant he would have to write something from scratch. Actually, he thought, this could be a good way to start brushing up on some skills long left dormant.

He took as inspiration one of his letters to Ron in Egypt and wrote a prose poem in hieroglyphs on the love of Isis for Osiris. He conceived it as a lament sung by Isis as she gathered up the fourteen pieces of Osiris' body after Set had cut him up and dispersed them throughout Egypt. This one he did submit on parchment, suitably embellished with small illustrations drawn using mineral pigments similar to those used in ancient Egypt. It wasn't great literature or even great art but he had fun doing it and that alone made the effort worthwhile.

Next up was the interview. Harry took a train from Paddington Station in London to Oxford and found his destination to be a building on Broad Street that was part of Balliol College. Dr. Padraig O'Connor, the admissions tutor, met with him in an office on the third floor.

Dr. O'Connor was a tall man with red hair and a friendly face. He met Harry at the door and invited him to have a seat and instead of sitting back down behind his desk he sat in the second visitor's chair out front.

"Mr. James, welcome. Your application essays have caused quite a stir around here. It isn't often we have such an accomplished applicant who is so young."

"Uh..." Harry didn't know what to say.

"Well yes. Your Coptic translation is generating a discussion that I'm sure will go on for quite some time. The piece that you chose to translate was virtually unknown to contemporary scholars. Apparently the most recent reference to it in the literature is over a hundred years old. However did you come across it?"

"My Uncle Cuthbert, sir. He was, um, quite the eccentric and it was just something he had in his library." Harry had prepared to cite his fictional uncle in order to explain some things but didn't think that he would come up quite so soon.

"Well I'm sure that there are members of the faculty that would like to meet your uncle sometime."

"I sorry sir, he passed on in ninety seven and his library was dispersed."

"I'm sorry too. I'm sure you're going to be asked about him often today."

"Sir?"

"Mr. James I've taken the liberty of scheduling two more interviews for you today with faculty members who have taken an interest in you. Your meeting with me here is just a formality. They will be the ones to decide if we can fit you into our program or, I should say, fit our program to you."

"I see. Thank you, sir."

"Now, Mr. James. I see from your application that you have not submitted the financial assistance disclosure and request forms. I have them right here for you."

"They won't be necessary sir, I'll be paying my own way."

"I see. Well you will have to provide some sort of proof of solvency. We don't want our students distracted because of financial problems while they should be pursuing their studies."

"I understand sir. I'll have to move some investments around I think and arrange matters. It isn't something I know a lot about. I have, um, an agent who oversees things like that."

"Yes. Well. You also haven't indicated any housing preferences. Now normally we have space for only first and third year students because our linguistics scholars usually spend their second year abroad. Beyond third year is your own responsibility."

"Well, my plan was, since I want to stay here through earning my Ph.D. which will take seven or more years, is to purchase a flat or small terrace house. I don't drive you see and want to be close in..."

Dr. O'Connor smiled broadly at him. "Mr. James, I think we have covered what we need to. I'm going to send you off to see Dr. Singh. He will sit you for the required linguistics aptitude test and speak to you more about your education plans."

"Thank you sir."

Instead of sending him off to make his own way, Dr. O'Connor made a phone call and someone was sent to escort Harry to his next appointment.

His meeting with Dr. Singh went well enough. He had been revising in anticipation of the linguistics test for a couple of weeks now and he felt that he did quite well. Dr. Singh wasn't happy that his Latin was rudimentary and told him that that would have to be remedied right away even though his study emphasis would be non-European languages. It was a requirement of the department for the undergraduate degree.

From Dr. Singh's office he was once again escorted to his next destination. His escort both times was a smartly dressed young woman with short straight black hair and a rich mahogany complexion. She had introduced herself as "Annebelle, call me Ani." She told Harry that she was in her first semester of post- graduate study and was interested in Celtic languages and customs. She was pleasant enough but seemed a little distant.

She did say something that stuck with him though. "Dr. Jackson was very interested in your paper on demons."

"Dr. Jackson?"

"Yes, he was here for a short lecture series that just ended. I believe that Professor Russell showed it to him."

Harry didn't get a chance to ask another question as they had reached their destination, an office underground in the lower levels of the building.

Professor Beatrix Russell seemed as ancient as the languages and cultures she lectured in. She was a tall woman with steel gray hair cut very short. She was dressed in a flowing something that reminded Harry of wizard's robes.

"Mr. James. Some very interesting people have spoken up for you and urged us to accept you into our program. Please have a seat. Would you like a cup of tea?"

"That would be nice. Yes please."

She picked up the phone and spoke to someone briefly then turned back to Harry. "I asked for something more substantial then just tea. I'm sure you wouldn't mind something to eat?"

"No ma'am. That would be nice."

"Not a problem. Now I found your "Lament of Isis" quite amusing. What ever inspired you to write it?"

Harry decided to be honest. "When I was 13 I wrote a silly joke poem to a friend of mine who had been sending me picture cards written in hieroglyphs while he was summering in Egypt. I sent stuff to him using the Greek and Coptic alphabets. Not accurately. I was just substituting the letters for English equivalents. It was fun and inspired me to study them for real when school started in the fall."

"Your school must have had an interesting curriculum."

"Um, well, yes ma'am. It was more independent study. My Uncle Cuthbert saw I had taken an interest and helped me along quite a bit."

"Well now. If only more of our students had an "Uncle Cuthbert" to guide them." Harry distinctly heard the quotation marks around "Uncle Cuthbert."

They were interrupted by a knock at the door. Ani came in with a large tray. Professor Russell invited her to stay for tea. Nothing more than pleasantries were said for the next few minutes until Ani once again brought up the name Dr. Jackson.

Professor Russell's reply was testy. "Yes well Dr. Jackson has some very interesting theories. And an absurd interest in demons." She waved her hands in the air as if to dismiss the subject of Dr. Jackson from the room.

"Now the treatise that you worked from, aside from its subject matter, is of great interest. I spoke with Dr. O'Connor just before you arrived. He told me that you no longer have access to it?"

"No, ma'am." How could Harry tell her that the parchment he had worked from was probably an original and was bound together with a dozen more in the same hand that was more than likely that of the author? Hogwart’s library had an incredible collection. "My Uncle's estate was sold after he passed away."

"Well. We have located a copy at a university library in Cairo and they are preparing a facsimile for us. We should have it in a day or two. As I'm sure Dr. O'Connor told you, your paper has been the talk of the department. Once you start here in the fall I would like you to submit it for publication."

"Ma'am?"

"Yes. Publication. I know it is almost never done for an incoming student but you see Mr. James, the part of the treatise that you translated was unknown. It hadn't survived hundreds of years of copying and editing before the printing press came along. As I said, I've tracked down a more complete version in Egypt. It will be interesting to discover if there are any other missing sections."

There was that word again. Interesting. She twisted the sound of it around and inside out every time she used it. It made him nervous. "I don't know ma'am. That section just caught my fancy when I was younger and that's why I chose it."

"I can understand a teenager's amusement by the passage. Well I'm certainly happy that it did. Now on to other things. What are you goals Mr. James? What do you see yourself doing after you have completed your degree?"

"Well I want to do advanced work. Earn my Ph.D. I want to spend time in Egypt. Dig into the history of the words and symbols I love. I think I'd like to teach. I did some, uh, tutoring while I was a student and enjoyed that."

"Good, good. Mr. James I get the feeling that there is a lot that you could teach us already."

"If you say so ma'am."

"Now Ani if you would excuse us?"

"Thank you for the tea ma'am. Nice to have met you Mr. James."

"Harry, Ani. The same. I'm sure I'll see you again."

"Yes. Quite. Good day," and she was out the door taking the ravished tea tray with her.

"Now Mr. James, I think that Ani is quite put out by the idea that an incoming student may well have two publications under his belt before the end of his first year here. And as an undergraduate to boot."

"Two ma'am?"

"Yes. I think that your lament should also be submitted for consideration. We just have to decide where. It doesn't really fit neatly into any specific category. We shall see, there will be plenty of time to decide.

"You said that you were interested in going to Egypt. There is an expedition being put together that will leave in a year. If you prove your fitness to be here over the winter, you may be invited to join it. I would be happy to recommend you if you do well."

"Thank you Professor Russell." Harry had a thought. "I could pay my own way."

"Excuse me?"

"Um. I could pay my own expenses. I wouldn't require a stipend."

"I see, Mr. James. That could very well be in your favor. We will just have wait and see what happens. Now about your program of study."

They discussed his experience and interests in some detail before deciding that he could probably test out of a number of subjects and that he might be able to finish his undergraduate degree in less then four years. By the time they were through Harry felt as if he had been wrung through a wringer.

He made his way back to the train station and slept for the duration of the ride back to London.

Several days later he received a letter via muggle mail accepting him into Balliol College and was informed that a place would be held for him in the upcoming Michaelmas Term that started in October.


	4. Arrival

                                                                                                     Chapter 3

  
This trip through the gate seemed longer then his previous experiences few though they had been. They had made six practice runs to and from the Alpha site in the final ten days before the real thing. He stepped into a dark space lit only by the beams of light from the torches on the military’s p-90's and his own headlamp. Dispersion plan 4 called for him to step forward five paces and turn the pallet to the left. He was pallet two. Pallet one had gone to the right. Behind him pallet three would go eight paces and also go right. Efficiency and speed were crucial in order to get as much as possible through the gate. The plan counted on twenty minutes of transit time. Anything after that was gravy. The expedition members would all be through and the pushers on the other side would just keep passing stuff along until the wormhole shut down.

Harry was happy that it was Plan 4. Plan 4 was fairly straightforward. Not like plan 5, which was in the case of a wet world with its gate on a small island surrounded by water. The pallets were equipped with some sort of air bag flotation devices that when triggered would allow them to be pushed right into the water in order to get them away from the gate. A water world would have caused a delay in embarking while it was determined if there was land close by and enough of it to support them.

No, not a water world or a jungle or a mountaintop. They were in a large room. Harry could feel it. In fact he could feel it through his feet of all places because he certainly couldn't see much. Once he had stopped moving he looked down and it seemed as if the floor was glowing a little around him. He took an experimental step and saw it light up around his toes as he set his foot down.

He felt air start to move across the back of his neck. He turned his head into the faint breeze. First he smelled staleness. Old. Dead. Shuttered. Then a hint of something. Maybe salt. Like at the seashore. Ozone after a storm. Then nothing. Just fresh air. Warm. Clean. Pure. As he turned to catch more of the airflow he saw that the wall had started to brighten behind him, but then he heard Curtis' whisper of "Oh Shit" and he turned back.

Someone was rising up something across the room from them and as the shadowy figure rose up the room got brighter and he could see that it was climbing a staircase. Soon Harry could make out that it was Major Sheppard and as he climbed each step it lit up beneath his feet. On the face of each step was what looked like symbols from the Ancient's writing system.

Harry started across the room towards the staircase dodging around incoming people and equipment. Behind him he heard Curtis' "Sir?" and her footsteps as she followed him.

Then he heard someone yell, "Who's doing that? Who is turning stuff on?" It sounded like Colonel Sumner.

He heard another voice say, "Sheppard what are you..." interrupted by Major Sheppard's reply of, "I haven't touched anything. I'm just walking on the floor and up the stairs."

Harry knew. He sensed it via the feeling that was rising up through his feet and beginning to resonate in his bones. It was Major Sheppard turning things on. The building was waking up for Major Sheppard. And for Harry.

Then his attention was grabbed once again by the steps. His translation mindset clicked on and he was off into a world he had discovered that summer 11 years ago when he received a postcard written in funny little picture symbols. That world had become his way of escaping the build up to and the aftermath of the war. It had held him together when people he knew and loved changed and fell apart and the world he had lived in for less then half of his life dissolved around him and then drove him away.

The symbols on the step risers weren't like the system he had been studying. They were more stylized, flowing and curvaceous yet still geometric at the same time. There were patterns and repeats within lines and between steps. Sort of like a poem. No. Not a poem. A song. Yes, music, said the feeling in his bones. A Song of Welcome. He could almost hear the music resonate within him, very faint and far away.

He was just beginning to pick out a word here and there when Curtis took his arm. "Sir? Dr. Weir would like you at the top up there. Didn't you hear her on the radio? Sir?"

No Harry had only heard the music but he was back now and climbed up the stairs.

At the top Dr. McKay was talking about power consumption while examining the consoles. Dr. Weir asked Harry about the writing on the staircase. She had seen him studying it as it got brighter and brighter in the room. Dr. Weir missed very little of what was going on around her. As Harry told her his thoughts, suddenly there were images appearing all around them in mid air. They seemed to be like computer monitors with information flowing across them, dancing in patterns and arrangements like ripples of water or flowing silk.

This was in a script Harry could make out. It was information, status of systems. Numbers and percentages were low and looked less then ideal. He called Dr. McKay's attention to one window that seemed to be about power and its flow.

As Dr. McKay shoved past him he stepped away and looked out into the room. They were up on a balcony overlooking the stargate. The flow through continued smoothly. He checked the timer on his wrist. Almost everyone wore one and they had activated when the wormhole opened. They were at 19 minutes. By then the room was bright enough that he could see that the next pallet through was spray painted bright red. That meant that all the expedition personal were through along with the basic supplies. Everything after this was icing on the cake. There were enhancements and extras and back-ups and maybe some luxury items at the end of the line if there was time. There was even a pallet or two of trade items that might prove useful.

He watched the carefully choreographed dance of the double line of "pullers" on either side of the gate as they grabbed the controls of each pyramid shaped stack as it came through and rushed it away from the event horizon. They were starting to invert pallets across the room. Fitting them in like 3D jigsaw puzzle pieces atop the pallets already there.  They were keeping the floor space as open as possible and leaving room for each additional stack as it came through. He could see the movements and could feel the music of the welcome song and it seemed as if the soldiers moved to the beat. Or perhaps the music moved to their rhythms. Maybe a bit of both, he mused.

Harry felt more alive at that moment then he had for years. He felt himself lit up, that he was glowing, giving off light and an electrical charge and music. Yes there was even music. He felt as if his hair was standing on end.

He turned when he heard a voice with the familiar cadence of southern England. Someone from home. His old home. It was Peter Grodin. A console had lit up under his hands. Or perhaps Sheppard's as he was standing nearby. Harry stepped closer in order to see the window that had just appeared. Grodin must have seen the movement and looked up.

Grodin's eyes locked on his forehead for a moment. Maybe my hair really is standing up he thought. And then his eyes met Harry's as they widened in shock and he blurted out in what to Harry sounded like a shout, "Harry Potter!"


	5. Egyptology

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry discovers heiroglyphs

Chapter 4

Harry's interest in all things Egyptian developed even before Ron came back from his family's summer trip to visit Bill in Egypt with the usual gimcracks and gewgaws any tourist would pick up. Like the trick scarab ring on which the beetle would suddenly come to life and scurry up under the wearer's sleeve when least expected. Or the ankh wand that when swished and flicked would dissolve into sand and swirl around the users head in a miniature sand storm.

It all started with an early morning owl delivering a picture card showing the pyramids on a sunny day with clouds moving across the sky. It was from Ron with a message written in hieroglyphs. There was no hint of how to translate it and Harry couldn't find any books among the rather limited collection at the Dursley's to help him out.

However in an old but obviously rarely used dictionary he found a chart of the Greek alphabet which he copied from to write an answer to Ron. He used a simple substitution code where each Greek symbol stood for its nearest equivalent English counterpart and he just fudged things when there wasn't one.

A few days after he had owled his reply back to Ron he managed to sneak out to the Little Whinging library where he discovered that Ron had pretty much done the same thing using hieroglyphs and his message was an off colour limerick about a wizard and his broomstick.

Harry set about composing a little ditty about Ron and his wand that he coded into a message this time using both Greek letters and hieroglyphs. This one he sent written on the back of an advert card from a local vacuum cleaner shop that had recently done a repair job for Aunt Petunia.

Ron's reply was an animated picture card of a very puzzled looking sphinx with a very simple message consisting of question marks.

Harry laughed at this one. He knew Ron would worry at it and eventually figure the two cards out. He was positive that Bill would help if asked. Surely he would have a book or two that Ron could use. Harry knew that if he didn't give in and provide a clue or a translation that Ron would eventually crack open a book outside of school and solve the puzzles.

By this time Harry had a collection of books from the library about ancient Egypt and had discovered the Coptic alphabet which was a weird combination of Greek letters and hieroglyphs. Harry started a notebook where he practiced drawing the different symbols and letters using different quills and coloured inks. His third message to Ron was a letter written using the Coptic symbols and telling Ron about his progress with his summer essay assignment for Professor Binns about witch burning in the fourteenth century and how so many of the women burned had not been witches at all because the real witches had easily escaped.

This letter hadn't gotten owled to Ron until after the Aunt Marge incident and his escape from Privet Drive. Harry had been able to finish it up a couple of days after he had settled into his room at the Leaky Cauldron with the assistance of several books he had picked up at Flourish &amp; Blotts in Diagon Alley.

Harry was intrigued when he started reading about Egypt from the Wizarding world's perspective after having read the Muggle books from the library. He learned that out in the desert beyond Giza there was an additional pyramid and temple hidden from the eyes of muggles that served as the Egyptian equivalent of Hogwarts and the Ministry Of Magic combined. He was happy though to discover that the Sphinx was a mystery to both worlds.

When school started in September Harry added Ancient Runes to his schedule. He made a considerable effort in History of Magic class to try to get Professor Binns to talk about Egypt instead of the Goblin Wars. He wasn't very successful and spent his free periods, when he could, in the Hogwart's library researching the subject on his own.

He loved the Ancient Runes class and filled scroll after scroll while practicing the letters and symbols of many different alphabet and word systems. The class even had a practical section where he practiced inscribing Babylonian cuneiform into clay tablets and carved Egyptian hieroglyphs into slabs of sandstone. Harry dutifully cut reed pens and learned to make paper from papyrus because you needed these things for certain advanced forms of magic but his real love were the symbols themselves.

They just seemed to have a magic all their own in the curves and squiggles and lines that caught his eye and inspired his imagination. They helped him to see that the rather dry lectures in his History of Magic classes and his extracurricular readings were more then stories and facts. He grew to understand history was alive in a way because of different interpretations and insights among scholars and new discoveries occurring all the time that forced them to re-evaluate their suppositions on a regular basis.

Harry's escape into his inner world of signs and symbols was one of the few things aside from his friends that enabled him to face the times and troubles that pummeled him from all sides in the years leading up to the war.

One evening sometime near the end of his sixth year at Hogwarts he and Ron were alone in their dorm room studying together on Harry's bed. Ron was sprawled across the center nodding off over a book and Harry was sitting up, his back against the headboard with his legs spread out and his feet resting in the small of Ron's back. They weren't able to discuss it yet but casual touching and other small rituals had become a part of their daily lives. They shook hands outside a classroom before they went in for an exam. They walked shoulder to shoulder in the hallways, pressing against each other. That had started out years before as a shoving game where one of them tried to shift the other into the oncoming path of a member of the opposite sex. It had evolved into just something they did once the game became tiring.

They hugged before they went to bed at night. That had started the night after the dragon challenge of the tri-wizard tournament. Ron just ran up to Harry and wrapped his arms around him because he was so happy that Harry was safe. It had felt good and they hung on to each other until Hermione and Ginny had joined them. It then became an occasional thing after moments of high stress or emotional upset and evolved into a regular nightly occurrence so gradually that their roommates grew used to seeing it and never commented or teased.

That night on the bed Harry was getting bored with his Arithmancy problems. He started doodling Ron's name in Japanese on the back of his hand. Then he reached over and pulled Ron's right hand over to him where he wrote his own name on it. He had used his wand to transfigure a quill into a paintbrush to make the symbols just right.

Ron came out of the trance-like state cause by the dull book. "What's that?"

"Your name. Did you know that the Japanese have a phonetic alphabet used just for foreign words?" He continued to stroke calligraphy up Ron's arm.

"In the fourteenth century there was a powerful witch who took as her lover a Dutch ship captain. She tattooed her name and spells of love all over his body. She killed him when he was unfaithful and used his skin to make a pillow book of love spells."

"Oh yuck." Ron blushed. "Well you don't need to write love spells on my skin, mate."

Harry looked deep into Ron's eyes. "I know." Nothing more needed to be said.


	6. Rising

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Playing with canon time line a bit

Chapter 5

 

"Harry Potter!"

It was like being slammed in the gut. Everything good he had been feeling fled in an instant. The room darkened. That got Sheppard's attention. "What was that Peter?"

"Uh nothing, sir. Just an old colloquialism from home. Uh. Hairy potter. Just something my grandmother smacked into me. Something to say instead of great bloody balls or any other profanity. It comes out sometimes when I'm excited and not thinking."

"Umm" was Sheppard's reply. Before he could say more he was interrupted by a call on the radio from Col. Sumner. There was something that he wanted Dr. Weir to see. She tried to put him off but he insisted.

"Very well Col. I'm on my way." She turned to Major Sheppard. "Major will you come with me? Dr. McKay? Mr. James? You too if you would."

Harry nodded as he caught Grodin's eye again. "We need to talk," he mouthed silently. Grodin nodded. Then he gave Harry a big smile and for a moment across the dimmed space Harry thought that he winked at him.

They followed Sumner's instructions which led them down several levels to a large dark panel at the end of a hallway. As they got closer he could see that it was a window overlooking a submerged city. They were in the city, underwater. Far above there was faint light trickling down that only touched the very tops of the tallest structures they could see.

Harry could once again feel the music. Lights in the hallways they had traversed had come on as they passed. Happiness. That's what came through. Happiness and satisfaction. At the window the music and his feelings soared. This wasn't a building. It was a city. The lost city of Atlantis. Welcoming them. Welcoming him. Coming to life around him and in front of him again after thousands of years of no one to be alive for.

Awakening only to discover that it had been too long. That there were problems. Discords in the music started seeping in. Through the window they could see a section of the city that had just lit up go dark again.

Dr. McKay was saying something about shields and power and failure and evacuation. Harry was listening but he wasn't. He was hearing/feeling life and death. In music. A symphony of sound and feeling. Long low subsonic bass notes that echoed through the centuries. An awaking of mid-tones and treble quickening only to fall abruptly silent again. Loss. Emptiness. Anticipation. A quickening. Then pain. Failure. Then something, a snaking in of a new theme.

A hand on his shoulder brought him out of it. "Mr. James are you OK?" It was Major Sheppard with a look of concern on his face.

"Yes. No. I'm sorry I've got to move away from here." He could see in Sheppard eyes that he was sharing something similar. He looked uneasy and Harry just knew that it wasn't because of his own distress. "The city, uh, it. She. Yes. She is trying. Dying. I'm sorry I've got to get away from the window."

He turned and stumbled back up the hallway. He had to get back to the gate room. Up a flight of stairs. Another hallway. This time the lights were going out as he passed. He heard footsteps behind him and as he turned to go up the last staircase he saw it was Major Sheppard right behind him. Together they burst into the gate room and ran across the floor. As he twisted around people and equipment the wormhole closed.

The timer on his wrist beeped and without thinking about it he checked it. Thirty-one minutes. Wow. They were very well supplied, much more then hoped for.

The music took over again. Calling him. Urging him on. Up the stairs to the control center. Yes that's what it is he realized. Move to a small station off to one side. Touch it. Activate it. Not enough. More.

"Sheppard. Here. Touch this." Still not enough. "Grodin. Come here. Help us." The symphony swelled, voices wailing in distress filling in the empty spots where parts of the city's music had gone out.

Peter Grodin looked up from where he was bent over a laptop he'd been trying to integrate into the station where he was working. He hesitated when he saw the looks of desperation on Harry's and Major Sheppard's faces.

"Mr. Grodin. I need you here now. That's an order," yelled Major Sheppard and though Grodin wasn't in his chain of command or even military he came at once.

Harry was touching the blue panels, Sheppard the red.

"Place your hands there on the two yellow panels. Think about permission. Think about rising. Tell her it's OK. Help us," Harry managed to get out before becoming trapped in the music.

When Grodin placed his palms onto the panels there was a shudder throughout the city. The music in Harry's head was solution. Answer. Resolving chords sang praise. Out of darkness into freedom and light.

The city shuddered again. Shouts and cries arose from the gate room floor as pallets shifted and containers fell. People had a hard time staying on their feet. The floor continued to shift and jump under them while Harry soared with the sound. Somewhere somewhen he heard Sheppard say or maybe think something about inertial dampeners and suddenly the floor steadied. Things out in the gate room settled again but people's voices still called out asking what was happening. Someone called for the gate to be reactivated for evacuation. The minutes passed still with the feel of movement under their feet but settled now. Easier.

Then light. Glorious light and harmony. Triumph. Success and satisfaction. Beams of light streaming into the gate room through what had previously been just a dim pattern of design behind and above the gate and now was glorious color and light and sunlight spearing through a window that opened up to a sky and a sun. A blue sky that wasn't quite the blue of home. A yellow sun that was maybe a little more orange then home. No not home said the music. This is home now. Harry knew it deep in his bones and felt it as the same realization came over the other two men at the console.

The music calmed. A coda of satisfaction. Triumph. Praise. Thanks. Then the gate room, alive with light, filled with new sounds. Excited voices of the new residents of Atlantis rose above the misic in his head.

Harry looked around as his eyes focused on his surroundings again. He saw the window and light and heard his fellow expedition members as they gloried in the new situation. Few realized how close they had come to death. He gazed at the other two men around the flight control console. First he met Sheppard's eyes and there was a smirk and a raised eyebrow. Then on to Grodin and yes this time it definitely was a wink along with a twisting hint of a smile.

As one the three men lifted their hands away from the console and as one they crumpled to the ground.


End file.
